im to their
husbands' guns. Numbers of carts stand at the door of every inn, and
crowds are pushing in and out of every drinking-shop. In the
market-place the corn-wagons are closely ranged, and the whole wide
space covered with well-filled sacks, and horses of every size and
color; and a few brokers are winding their way, like so many eels, among
the crowd, with samples of grain in each pocket, asking and answering in
two languages at once. Amid the white smock frocks of the Poles, and
their hats adorned with a peacock's feather, the dark blue of the German
colonists appears, together with soldiers from the next garrison,
townspeople, agriculturists, and fine youths, sons of the nobility. You
may see the gendarme yonder at the corner of the square, towering high
on his tall horse; he, too, is excited to-day, and his voice sounds
authoritatively above all the confusion of the carts that have stopped
up the way. Every where the shops are opened wide, and small dealers
spread out their wares on tables and barrels in front of the houses;
there the bargains are deliberately made, and the enjoyment of shopping
is keenly felt. The last purchase over, the next move is into the
tavern. There, cheeks get redder, gestures more animated, voices louder,
friends embrace, or old foes try hard to pick a quarrel. Meanwhile men
of business have to make the most of this day, when actions are brought
and taxes paid. Now it is that Mr. Loewenberg drives his best bargains,
not only in swine, but in cows and wool; besides which, he lends money,
and is the trusted agent of many a landed proprietor. So passes the
market-day, in ceaseless talking and enjoyment, earning and spending,
rolling of carts and galloping of horses, till evening closes in, and
the housewife pulls her husband by the coat, remembering that the
earthen mugs he carries are easily broken, and that the little children
at home are beginning to cry out for their mother. Such has ever been
the weekly market in the town of Rosmin.

During the last winter the numbers attending it had not decreased, but
there was a degree of restlessness to be observed in many, particularly
in the gentry of the district. Strangers of military appearance often
entered the principal wine-shop, and went into the back room, of which
the door was at once shut. Youths wearing square red caps, and
peculiarly attired, walked in and out among the crowd, tapping one
peasant on the shoulder, calling another b